


Revenge Best Served Stolen

by rhetoricalrogue



Series: How Far We've Come [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Friendship, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 02:02:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17972348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhetoricalrogue/pseuds/rhetoricalrogue
Summary: A moment between friends during Slim Couldry shenanigans.  Ties in with Moira's history inA Rush to the Start.





	Revenge Best Served Stolen

Moira tried not to look like a fish out of water in her current setting, but it was terribly difficult to try to eavesdrop on a conversation in the Pearl when one of the employees of said establishment was loudly moaning one door down.

Zevran tisked and shook his head. “The man is off rhythm. Good on her for making it sound like he’s doing a good job.” He leaned against the wall beside her and began to tap his fingers on her shoulder in the beat the man next door should have been moving to. “I have half a mind to go in and offer suggestions, free of charge.”

Moira rolled her eyes. “I didn’t think you did anything for free,” she whispered back, ears straining to hear the conversation that they had gone into the building to hear.

“Well, the advice would be a preview. I’d then offer to join. For a fee, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But for you, I would waive all fees. You have only to say the word, my dear.”

Moira snorted. “Noted. Answer’s still thanks but no thanks.”

Zevran sighed dramatically. “A man can always dream.”

Information gathered, Moira stood up from her spot. “Come on, I got what I needed. You up for a little shenanigans as the Dark Wolf’s associate tonight?”

“What, stealing from the rich and giving to the needy while putting ourselves in danger and then laughing about our close calls afterwards? As if you had to ask.” 

She smirked. “Good. Leliana might want to get involved with this one too; her lockpicking skills are far better than either of…” she trailed off, the color in her face draining when she heard the change in topic.

“Shame to hear what happened in Highever,” one of the men they’d been spying on commented.

“Howe did Loghain a favor; killing them all saved us the trouble of giving Bryce Cousland a fair trial.”

“Hah!” the first one scoffed. There was a sound of wood scraping against wood; he’d more than likely lifted a tankard of ale off the table to drink. “As if we’d ever give a traitor a _fair_ trial! Whatever anyone says, that bastard _deserved_ what he got and more for trying to sell us out to the Orlesians.”

Moira’s vision turned red and she vaguely felt herself reach for the daggers she kept at her side. How _dare_ they speak of her father that way? _Howe_ was the traitor, not him!

The hard press of fingers against her wrist wasn’t enough to take her out of her rage. Moira’s back hit the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of her.

“Don’t,” Zevran said, his voice at her ear. “Too many people to witness and your cover would be blown.”

“I want…”

He held her hands above her head and pressed his body against hers to keep her pinned to the wall. “Revenge, yes I know. Yet these two are not worthy of your time or your blades. _Think_ , Moira. If I let you go now, what would happen?”

Moira took a deep breath and slowly let it out. If she attacked those two men, even here, people would see. Her face, however hidden in anonymity she had been, would be known and she’d be later seen out on the streets with Alistair. Having a murderer as an associate would hurt his bid for the throne and put all their plans in jeopardy. “You’re right,” she said, relaxing in his grasp.

He loosened his hold on her wrists, but didn't move away. “Will you be all right if I let you go?”

She nodded. “They aren’t worth it.”

“Pity. I was rather enjoying having you pushed up against a wall.” The teasing tone was back and before she could stop him, he had nipped playfully at her earlobe. “You’ve inspired a few fantasies.”

“Thank you.”

“Ah, but I should be thanking _you_.”

She playfully pushed his shoulder, but her expression quickly grew serious. “You know what I mean.”

His eyes were kind. “I know. And no thanks are necessary. It is what friends do, yes?” He pulled the hood she wore up and over her head, hiding her hair and most of her face. “Now walk out of here without anyone seeing you. I won’t be but a moment.”

Knowing better than to question him, she did as he asked. It wasn’t five minutes later when Zevran emerged from the Pearl, a jaunty spring in his step. 

“You are getting better at stealth, my dear,” he commented, falling into step with her as they walked down the street. “Had I not known where to look, I wouldn’t have noticed you.”

“What was that all about?”

“Well, one, we could not be seen leaving together, especially as we passed that little room our two friends were gossiping in. It would put too much suspicion if we had been caught. And two, you cannot play the part of a woman of the night convincingly enough to do what I had planned on doing.”

She arched her eyebrow. “And what did you do?”

He dug in his pockets and brought out two rather large coin purses. “After you left, I slid in and propositioned the two of them. They were drunk, and had the _extremely_ poor taste of refusing my services. Yet the important part is that I left without either of them knowing I had liberated them of their money.” He offered both bags to her. “Not only will they be unable to pay for the services of the redheaded temptress I spied earlier, but they won’t be able to pay the rather large tab at the bar they’d built up. They’ll wind up being thrown out on their ear in a rather undignified fashion by a bouncer.”

That teased a laugh out of Moira, who had been spending most of her time brooding as she waited for him. “You, my darling assassin,” she said, “are a treasure.”

“Yes, this I know.”

Weighing the coin in her hands, she figured they had a rather large sum to their name now. “Yet I have to wonder, if you said that they have poor taste for refusing you, what must you think of me?”

“You, my dear, are different. You refuse my advances because your heart is given to another. They, on the other hand, refused my advances because I am a filthy knife-ear. Their words, not mine. Had you not been so in love with this Nathaniel I have heard so much yet know so few details about, you would be but putty in my hands.”

Moira tilted her head. “That certain of yourself, are you? And what’s to say that you wouldn’t be putty in _my_ hands?”

Zevran laughed. “See, this is why I like you. You might not be available, but you flirt back.” He sobered and looked at her. “Are you all right?”

She stared at the money she held, suddenly not wanting to touch anything those liars had owned. “Yes.” She sighed. “No.”

“Your father was a good man. You know the truth, as do the rest of the people who matter. _That_ is what counts.”

“I know. And despite you saying that thanks aren’t necessary, thank you.” Without warning, she took a side street that would lead them towards the alienage. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think we need their money. Care to start up our little spree of redistributing the wealth a little earlier than we planned?”

Zevran shook his head. “Oh, my Warden,” he told her, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I would follow you anywhere.”


End file.
